


Run, run, run (I can’t stop)

by Hyeyu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Run Hajime Run, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5735533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyeyu/pseuds/Hyeyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi realises he likes Oikawa, a lot more than he thinks is rational. So he acts in the most logical way he knows: </p><p>He flees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run, run, run (I can’t stop)

**Author's Note:**

> Set after ch189 in the manga; I tried to be somewhat canon-compliant. Title from BTS's 'Run'.

It only strikes Hajime at the end of it all.

He watches the tiny diorama of Karasuno celebrating their victory over Shiratorizawa down on the courts, squashing his envy while Oikawa mutters something uncomplimentary about Ushijima beside him. Ignoring the sarcastic remark, he comments instead on Kageyama’s improvement, and Oikawa immediately launches into a dissection of the final play, eyes keen behind the pair of spectacles perched on his nose.

“As expected of your disciple,” Hajime quips, just to ruffle Oikawa’s feathers. He’s rewarded with Oikawa immediately squawking a rejection, even as he begrudgingly acknowledges the younger setter’s skill.

“That said, Shrimpy is the kind of spiker that makes you want to try tossing to him…”

Hajime instinctively moves to smack Oikawa around the head as he always does, maybe even berate him for calling Karasuno’s decoy such an unflattering nickname. The blow never lands, drops to hang limply by his side as he catches sight of the smile hovering unwillingly around the corners of his friend’s lips, the furrow embedded deep in the smooth forehead and oh. _Oh._ Shit.

Three years of being on the same team together, three years of being each other’s counterpart, off and on-court and Hajime only just realizes that he cares for Oikawa a lot more than he thought he did in the space of that small moment, eyes settling on the familiar visage of his ex-captain and friend.

‘Care’? His mind curls in on itself as it circles, wary, the thought that he might, just might l-

“Alright, we’re done! We’re going home, going home time now. C’mon, Iwa-chan, don’t drag your feet.”

Oikawa shoves at Hajime’s shoulders carelessly, and Hajime only moves because he’s disoriented, still caught up in the horror and wonder of his revelation. The envy of earlier transmutes into a different feeling, sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach; he tunes it out and forces himself to be distracted by Oikawa’s rambling as they walk out of the gymnasium and towards the bus stop.

The epiphany lingers though, and much later, in the stillness of his bedroom, Hajime finally allows himself to dwell on the discovery that somehow, somewhere along the line, he has unconsciously succumbed to Oikawa’s dramatics, drive, everything. Try as he might, he can’t pinpoint what it had been about Oikawa at that particular moment that had been the trigger, the match that had lit the candle Hajime hadn’t even been aware he was holding for the tall setter. Typical of Tooru, really – waltzing into Hajime’s heart and making things even more inconvenient, the way he usually does.

Bundled safely in blankets and brutal honesty, Hajime gingerly gives his imagination free rein: the words he might blurt out in confessing to Oikawa, where he might do it (right after the graduation ceremony), how he would respond if Oikawa kisses him, sweet, and says he likes him back _you big silly Iwa-chan_.  But even indulgent imagination only stretches so far, and most of his fantasy-future is obscured, greyed out by knowledge Hajime has collected throughout his friendship with Oikawa. He’s had years of walking alongside his best friend after all, more than ample time to watch him shamelessly indulge the requests of his many female admirers. Oikawa has never been subtle in his flirtations with the fairer sex, even dating a girl from his class for the large part of his second year. Armed with all this, the only future his traitorous mind could conjure up with any surety is one where he stays by Oikawa's side until Oikawa, smiling, introduces his best friend to his fiancée, who’d be tall, lithe and pretty, the antithesis of Hajime himself. And Hajime would grin back, wish them all the best, break inside.

Something hot wells up, rolls down Hajime’s cheek towards his pillow, and he swipes at the rogue tear, startled. Taking a deep breath, he re-orients himself, tells himself he’s stronger than that. He’ll get over it. He will. It's simple, really - he'll just keep some distance between Oikawa and himself until the feeling dies away. It doesn’t matter that there’s no time left – he’s always been resourceful.  

He closes his eyes hard and starts to plan.

\---

Hajime has always been a deliberate person. It's one of his better traits, Coach had told him once, after a particularly demanding practice. It's rare that Hajime is ever careless, especially off-court; most of the decisions he's ever made are only finalized after considerable thought and care.

So when he opts to enter Chukyo University’s sport science program, he knows what he's done. He's aware of the options at his disposal, of the sports scholarships he's turned down, of the weight of Oikawa's gaze upon his back when the volleyball third-years members are discussing their university choices in the cafeteria over lunch. Matsukawa thumps him good-naturedly on the back.

"Nagoya, huh? Tokyo not far enough for you?"

"I don't know – think it’s far enough to avoid having to see your dumb face?" Hajime shoves back at Matsukawa, who laughs.

“Awww don’t worry, I’ll Snapchat you pictures of this beautiful mug every night from three different angles.”

Oikawa sniffs. "Iwa-chan, what's all this about dumb faces. It's as if you don't own a mirror."

"Shut up, Trashykawa." He hesitates briefly, but he has to know. “Chuo University made you an offer, right? You going?”

Oikawa grins and flashes a peace sign, half a beat too late. “It’s ok, Hajime, I won’t gloat _too_ much when we crush your team in matches.”

“Speaking of which, I hear Ushijima’s also been scouted for Chuo as well; dibs on front row seats when our dear Captain-chan is subjected to the ever-inspirational ‘flourishing from barren soil’ speech. Who knows, maybe they’ll even end up as roommates. Just think about it – seeing Ushijima’s wonderful face every morning-”

“Waaaaa Makki, don’t curse me like that!”

Hajime laughs with the others as Oikawa flails at Hanamaki, and Matsukawa starts singing about Oikawa and Ushijima kissing in trees. Later, as they are walking home, Oikawa brings up the subject again.

“I wonder how good the Chukyo volleyball team is.”

Hajime grunts, non-committal. He’s never really heard about Chukyo’s university volleyball team. Neither has Oikawa, judging by the way he’s worrying at his lower lip.

“You’re going to have to work real hard, Iwa-chan, if you’re going to bring your team to play against us.” He smiles, impish and it is wonderful and painful all at once. “Try not to punch people _too_ much; we don’t want you getting kicked out in the first week.”

“Coming from the guy who’ll probably be late for the first day of practice because he’s too busy taking selcas with girls at the front gate.”

Oikawa’s outraged gasp drags an unwilling grin onto Hajime’s face. “Iwa-chan! I would _never –_ ”

“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that, Assikawa.”

“Well, not on the first day at least; I need to show my upperclassmen what I can do, and first impressions are important. I’ll do selcas after I make starting line-up.” 

 Another weight, stacked flippantly onto Hajime’s already conflicted emotions. Chukyo’s a step in the right direction, he tells himself. He’s always been interested in physiotherapy and sport science, and, aside from having a top-notch faculty, the subjects offered were appealing, the facilities were state-of-the-art, and the quality of the lecturers promising.  

Chukyo is the first step away.

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_moved into the dorms today haha sucks to makki ushiwaka nowhere in sight_ ╰(◉ᾥ◉)╯

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_my roommates kind of large much muscles very biceps_ ヾ(o✪‿✪o)ｼ

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_wonder if theyre bigger than yours???_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_practice starts tomorrow already i cant wait to see who turns up_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_fingers crossed not ushiwaka oh god what do i do if he’s really my teammate_ ( ｰ̀3ｰ́ )

 

**To: Trashykawa**

_hahaha_

 

**To: Trashykawa**

_those girls around already?_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_MEAN IWACHAN I WILL BE ON TIME_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_how about you have you met your teammates yet_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_bet you miss my amazing sets already_

 

**To: Trashykawa**

_pffft as if_

 

He doesn't join the volleyball team at Chukyo University. It's a cowardly move, but a hard one nonetheless – it takes all his iron resolve not to march to the gym where the volleyball practices are and register for the club. But he’s made this decision even before he had stepped into Chukyo. Volleyball is too intricately tangled up with his best memories of Oikawa, and it’s safer to flee temptation than to withstand it.

He feels hollow not going for practice, missing the burn of overtaxed muscles and ligaments bunching through his legs and arms, the punishment laps and jumping and smashing balls over nets. Even the flying falls. Every evening around Aobajousai’s old practice hours, his limbs become twitchy and he can’t sit still, pumped with too much restless energy and nowhere to expend it. He takes to jogging around the campus, giving the gym a wide berth, headphones jammed over his ears to drown out the echoes of squeaky sneakers and solid thumps against hardwood floors.

He plugs up his free time between classes and homework with gym sessions (why lose the stamina he worked so hard to acquire?) and exploring the nearby sights. He tries self-teaching himself guitar briefly, borrowing his roommate's old acoustic and squinting at how-to videos on Youtube as he strums mangled chords for ‘Wonderwall’, resolutely ignoring the mental off-key-Oikawa singing accented English lyrics in his head.

He even accepts a confession and acquires a girlfriend, one of the smartest in their cohort to the envy of his classmates. Yue has shoulder-length brown hair, curled fashionably at the ends, large brown eyes made blue by contact lenses, and is tall enough to be able to lean her head on his shoulder. She is outgoing and assertive, with a dry sense of wit. She isn't too sweet, likes collecting Neko Atsume merchandise and has a competitive streak a mile long when it came to academics. She isn't like Oikawa, or unlike Oikawa. She just isn't him.

It's a strange feeling, Hajime thinks as he watches a movie - the new one about a group of people travelling through space to locate a new home for humans - at Yue's insistence, curling his fingers around her thinner ones as her head rests on his shoulder. He feels light in a way he's never felt whenever he's around Oikawa, and yet...

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_ugh training here is harder than back in aobajousai_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_ushiwaka sux (o_ _≧_ _д_ _≦_ _)o come here and kick his ass for me iwa-chan!!!_

 

**To: Trashykawa**

_Do it yourself_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_im not brutish enough lend me your arm wrestling prowess_ _ᕦ_ _(ò_óˇ)_ _ᕤ_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_watch out though my serve is super killer now good luck receiving it next time (_ _ര_ _̀ᴗ_ _ര_ _́)_ _و_ _̑̑_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_i kinda miss you a bit but not the violence_

 

The first few months, Oikawa texts almost daily, complaining about his new residence _("Too small, Iwa-chan - do they expect us to all be your height_?"), his new teammates on the volleyball team (" _If I hear one more mention of "barren soil" from Ushiwaka-chan..."),_ his attempts at cooking, the cute girls in his classes, the cute girls at the gym, the even cuter fangirls he’s garnered and everything else under the sun. Hajime responds with the shortest replies he can manage without triggering Oikawa's suspicion. He picks up the occasional call, allowing Oikawa to ramble for a few minutes before he begs off, citing classes and work as excuses. Distancing wouldn't work if Oikawa catches on too early - it would have to be done subtly to encourage Oikawa to be distracted by the people around him, rather than the childhood friend miles away.

And he would be distracted; he's far too vibrant, too brilliant a person to be hampered by old memories when the future beckons. Despite what everyone had said in high school, Hajime wasn't, and has never been Oikawa's keeper. He has no doubt Oikawa would remember him fondly, maybe even give interviews about the friend who used to smack him around, but future National players have no reason to be shackled to the past.

True enough, the number of texts start to dwindle, becoming shorter and more clipped, stark without the elaborate kaomojis Oikawa is so fond of. The last text Oikawa sends comes after the first match between Tokyo and Chukyo in the latter's gymnasium six months into the year. Hajime plans and pulls strings, managing to bog himself down in the library with two assignments and stacks of class readings two hours before the game is due to start.

One hour later sees him in the very last row of the bleachers, inconspicuous behind a bunch of other freshmen as his eyes are helplessly drawn, magnet-like, to the tall silhouette at the edge of the court. He would be able to pick out Oikawa anywhere - Hajime still sees him in his dreams, the ones he can't control when he’s bereft of sleep due to overnighters.

He watches as Oikawa's eyes scan the Chukyo players, game smile pulling on his lips. First the starting line-up themselves, then the players on the bench. The space beside the coach. Everyone else on the court. Hajime watches as the smile flickers, drops, and returns in the space of a heartbeat, something artificial about its edges.  

He leaves before Oikawa begins scanning the crowd, cursing his cowardliness, his weakness in coming at all.

Two hours later, his phone vibrates gently where he had placed it beside Yue's on the library table. She looks up at him through her bangs, curiosity clear in her eyes as he steadfastly ignores the call, fingers clenched tight around his highlighter as he stares unseeingly at his textbook. She says nothing though, even when the phone buzzes another five times for ten minutes before finally going silent.

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_chukyo was better than i expected_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_we still won though_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_where were you are you sick_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_are you ok_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_why wont you pick up my calls_

 

**From: Trashykawa**

_Hajime_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Yo everything ok? Oikawa just called me he sounded like a worried wife_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_You there?_

 

**To: Matsukawa**

_Exams tomorrow super-busy atm_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Damn someone working hard, no time to even put up with your boyfriend?_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Speaking of, heard you got an actual girlfriend how even_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Anyway shoot Oikawa a quick text before he combusts lol_

 

**To: Matsukawa**

_Later_

Hajime doesn’t text Oikawa back, and something in Oikawa must have given. Their chat goes silent after that; Hajime tells himself he's relieved, even if the dreams don't go away.

\---

By the end of the first year, Hajime scores a decent CGPA, gives up on the guitar and breaks up with Yue. More accurately, Yue breaks up with him on their six-month anniversary date at the arts faculty's cafe.

"It's not you, Hajime." She looks at him over the curling steam rising from their coffee, calm and relaxed. "Ok, it's kind of you, but not your personality. You're great, don’t get me wrong, and I don't regret trying it out with you, you know?"

"Yue..."

"So, who is she?"

Hajime jerks reflexively, and the coffee spills over the rim of his cup onto his hand. Immediately, Yue presses a tissue to the scalded skin and Hajime grimaces. "Sorry, that was kind of unexpected. And honestly, Yue, there isn't anyone. Did you really think I'd be the type to two-time you?"

"No, but..."Yue taps on her chin, thinking. “Whoever, or whatever it is, it's clear that they're still very much on your mind. And I'm a selfish person, I'm afraid. I need my boyfriend’s hundred-percent attention on me, and me only.” She leans forward and looks at him. “Be honest, Hajime, did you ever really love me?”

“I…do. It’s just.” Different. A gentle, friendly love, completely unlike the one he still harbours for Oikawa. It’s been long enough that he’s come to quietly accept the difference. The torch he yet carries for this childhood friend still burns, steady, and he doesn’t have heart enough to juggle another.

“I thought so.” Yue flicks him on the forehead. “Making me second-fiddle, I should be so pissed at you right now, Iwaizumi Hajime. That being said, I'm not going to give up your friendship that easily - you're still one of the smartest guys in class and the best study partner I’ve had. I fully intend to pick your brain for what it's worth. You owe me that much."

Yue smiles at him, and his lips quirk slightly, resigned. "You are a terrifying woman, Ishida Yue. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"All the time." She leans forward again, serious. "Really though, if not for my own selfishness, I would consider just letting this meander on because you're the kind of boyfriend I'd want to bring home to my mother. Hajime, whoever she was, she must have been pretty blind to have left you."

Regret, Hajime discovers, is more bitter than black coffee. "No, Yue. I left him first."

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Mommy and Daddy still fighting? Dude, not cool_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Seriously though, what’s up with you_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Oikawa refuses to spill and you’re too far for me to shake for information_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_I’m worried though, little fucker isn’t sleeping enough, practicing too much_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Just make up already or something, every time your name comes up he looks like he wants to cry_

 

**From: Matsukawa**

_Stop ignoring me asshole, did you block this number?_

 

**From: Hanamaki**

_Yo, are you coming back to Miyagi for winter break? Some of us are going to go back to Aobajousai to terrorize the newbies, make Yahaba cry a little._

 

**To: Hanamaki**

_Not sure yet, I’ll see._

 

**To: Matsukawa**

_sorry working on lab project v busy_

Someone steps onto the treadmill beside his as he's going about his usual workout routine at the university gym. "Yo. Iwaizumi, right?"

Hajime's eyes slide towards the right, takes in the messy bedhead and carefree smirk as he rifles through his memories to place the familiar face. "Hey. You were from …Tokyo? Nekoma? Kura or something along those lines."

"Kuroo, actually, but close enough." Kuroo finishes messing with the settings of his treadmill, jogging easily to the pace he's set on the machine. "So, the volleyball team is losing most of its seniors to real life and actual jobs past graduation and the captain, bless his heart, is having a grand panic meltdown. If sources are right, you're a pretty mean wing-spiker."

"Was," Hajime corrects automatically. "Haven't played in a year now. I'm rusty."

"Probably, but you were from Aobajousai, yeah? Bet you used to drill like crazy in high school. It shouldn’t take too long for you to get back into the swing of things."

"Look, I'm not interested. I've got too many assignments to keep up with, Nutrition is kicking my ass, and there really isn't any-"

"Time?" Kuroo snorts, turning to stare at Hajime full in the face. "There's always time, if you want something badly enough." He prods at the settings until the treadmill stops, expression serious. "Look, I get it, I didn't come to this university to go pro either. Let's be real - Chukyo isn't exactly a nationals-level-volleyball school; you, like me, like the rest of us on the team, are here because we made a choice that didn't include the option of playing sports as a full-time career. But Iwaizumi," Kuroo's voice is strangely gentle, "not going pro doesn't necessarily mean giving up the sport entirely."

Hajime wants to protest, maybe even swing a punch at Kuroo. This stranger knows nothing about why he's given up volleyball, doesn't know about Oikawa or how he is volleyball, is teammate, is childhood friend, is the love Hajime's kept buried under his skin, squirreled into the recesses of his heart. The words melt like ashes on his tongue, and it's all he can do to meet Kuroo's eyes, silent. After a while, the taller man sighs.

"Look, at most, you just need to turn up for normal practices. No after-hour drills, or special training camps. It'd be a shame to let all those skills waste away, y'know. Sawamura - used to be the captain of Karasuno? He's here too, and it's pretty fun. We ain't gonna make Nationals or anything, but we're working on making it difficult for others to get there. What do you have to lose, yeah?"

 _My control_ , Hajime doesn't say, legs numb beneath him, moving on autopilot.

Kuroo is still watching his face closely, eyes narrowed. “It’s something else, isn’t it? No one of your caliber gets that good without a lot of practice, and for you to quit volleyball cold-turkey can’t have been easy. Hell, I’d be crawling out of my own skin if I just stopped like that. Must have been something big.”

Hajime grimaces. “If I say ‘yes’, would you go away?”

“Yeah, I-”

“Yes.”

Kuroo holds his arms up in surrender. “I’m going, I’m going. But really, give it some thought. Not just because of the team – we’ll rustle up extra players from somewhere, no problem. So if staying away makes you happier and you’re fine with it, that’s cool, keep it up. But you don’t strike me as looking particularly happy at the moment, Iwaizumi. I’m not going to pry – not my place. Just…don’t have any regrets, yeah? I’ll see you around.”

The words roll around Hajime’s head long after he leaves the gym. It’s been months abstaining from volleyball, in the perverse hope of abstaining from thinking about Oikawa. And still Oikawa haunts his thoughts like a specter; their memories have never been simply limited to volleyball after all.

Hajime leans his head on his desk and groans.

 

**From: (unknown number)**

_Yo, Kuroo here. Got your number from Yue-chan. Don’t kill her – she owed me a favour._

 

**From: (unknown number)**

_Practice is on Monday and Fridays, 4 to 6ish._

 

**From: (unknown number)**

_Just drop by once and I won’t bug you again, how about that_

 

**To: Kuroo**

_I’ll think about it_

 

**To: Kuroo**

_That’s the spirit :)_

 

Practice _is_ better than he thought it would be - Hajime has missed playing volleyball. As Kuroo had mentioned, Sawamura is on the team as well, along with Moniwa, who had played for Datekou in high school. The captain – a laidback post-grad who did not look particularly prone to panic attacks – is clearly experienced with setting, and it isn’t hard to spike the sets he tosses. The training is fun, the team itself has a comfortable dynamic, and Hajime finds himself laughing after successful plays, high-fiving his teammates and joking around with them. He comes back on Friday, then on the Monday after that. He registers as a member two weeks into training and a part of him relaxes, even as his body protests all over again at the rigorous exercise.

He’s not what he used to be at the peak of his skills, but he’s still good, his spikes still able to forcibly slam through blockers. He makes the starting line-up in time for the All Japan Intercollegiate Volleyball Championship and tries not to think too much about what it would mean. Inexorably, life is pulling Hajime back onto the road he thought he had stepped off a year ago, pushing him forward. Towards _him._

Hajime’s done running though. A year hasn’t removed any of his love for Oikawa; rather, it’s shaped it, given it the space and time to bloom, and then molded it into a part of Hajime. Iwaizumi Hajime loves Oikawa Tooru and perhaps that’s okay as is, whether or not Oikawa reciprocates.

He smiles wryly, resigns himself to whatever fate might throw at him today.  

"Feeling nervous?" Sawamura mutters to him as they walk into the gymnasium, already filling up with players decked in their university colours and crowds of spectators.

"A little.” Hajime stretches – the bus ride had been long, and his calves are stiff. “S’a pretty big tournament."

“Wow, tell it like it is, Iwaizumi.”

Fuuma, their team's libero grins and smacks Hajime's ass. "Psh, don't worry - we'll get out there, take some names, kick some ass, simple."

"Senpai..."

Kuroo smacks his ass as well, laughs as he ducks Hajime's half-hearted punch. "For luck; don’t be stingy. Damn though, I could probably bounce a penny off this." He looks around. "Wonder if I'll see Yaku - he said he's starting for Miyagi, they should be around somewhere. Wouldn't be too bad to crush his team for bragging rights."

His hand rests on Hajime’s shoulder, squeezes it once, twice. “Chou is in here somewhere as well. They always arrive early.”

“Yeah.” Kuroo doesn’t know all the details, but he knows enough. The same went for Sawamura, information won through trust and alcohol-induced honesty. It is a relief to finally have people he could confide in, and both Kuroo and Sawamura have been unfailingly kind in their support. It’s what imbues him with the courage to step into this place today, tall and collected.

Idly, Hajime does his own sweep of the gym, sizing up opponents and team heights - most still taller than him, damn it - before his gaze is pulled towards a pair of wide brown eyes, half obscured by wavy hair, staring right back at him from where their owner is seated amongst his teammates on a bench, right ankle wrapped in a cast.

A hundred questions, followed by a hundred reprimands, then a hundred confessions bubble up inside him, churning his insides as Hajime stares at the boy he's tried so hard to run from over the past year. Then Moniwa is jostling his shoulder as he moves past him, and Hajime's attention snaps back to where his team is walking towards their assigned court.

At Hajime's step backwards, Oikawa's face contorts, hands frantically grasping for the crutches Hajime had failed to notice leaning against the back of the bench. Hajime shakes his head, _no._ Don't rush it - there'll be time later. The moment Hajime had agreed to return to volleyball, he had agreed to eventually confront Oikawa, all the old fears dragged back up to be re-examined and presented to the boy Hajime had loved for so very long.

Maybe it is time to try something different. Something new. Hiding them hadn't worked out after all. And Oikawa deserves to know.

Hajime has always been a deliberate person.

He shapes the word in his mouth, knows that Oikawa will be able to read it off his lips. _Later._ After the volleyball. When there is time enough for tears and accusations and revelations and maybe, just maybe, resolution.

Oikawa's face glows like a star.

 

**From: Mattsun☆**

_Oikawaaaaaa hows your ankle_

 

**From: Mattsun☆**

_Btw I heard you finally made up with Iwaizumi? Thank fucking god_

 

**From: Mattsun☆**

_Now I can sic him on you when you overpractice and you can stop being a drama queen_

 

**From: Mattsun☆**

_Seriously though, thank fucking god_

 

**To: Mattsun☆**

_[image attached]_

 

**From: Mattsun☆**

_Wtf that’s just rubbing it in DISGUSTING PDA ALERT_

 

**From: Mattsun☆**

_Omg is Iwaizumi actually smiling, quick someone call the press_

 

**From: Mattsun☆**

_Congrats on being sickening you two, I’ll just go throw up now_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfic in, like, 8 years? I trieeeed. 
> 
> A million thanks and hot Akaashis to [enzen](http://wataksampingan.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this for me and suffering through the 100+1 dejected modes I went through because my writing quality is forever questionable.
> 
> You can find me at [here](http://hweiro.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, if you want to pop on by.


End file.
